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GIFT  or 


CALIFORNIA  AT 
CHRISTMAS  TIDE 


BY 


ELLA  Ft  SEXTON 


AUTHOR    OF    "STORIES    OF    CALIFORNIA"   AND    "WHAT  THE 
CHILDREN    SAY" 


FRRNCISCO.  CHRISTMRS,  1902 


lf'7 


P5  353? 
€  1*8  d 


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CALIFORNIA    AT 
CHRISTMAS-TIDE 


DECEMBER  ! "  says  the  year :  but  rose  and  bee 
And  meadow-lark  with  trills  of  sweetest 

Say  "No, 'tis  June!" 

Stern  black  and  white,  the  calendar's  decree/-  ^   :  \V: 
Yet  we  who  read,  bewildered,  turn  to  see 
"Wide  intervales  of  tender  green,  and  thrill 
To  fire  of  southern  sun  caressing  still 
December's  noon. 

"What  dawns  late-flushed  with  mingled  gold  and  rose, 
And  slowly  bright'ning,  till  each  perfect  day 

Smiles  hours  away 

Under  a  cloudless  turquoise  sky !    Then  shows 
The  pearly  bubble  of  the  moon,  that  grows 
To  luminous  whiteness  as  the  low  sun  wanes; 
"While,  as  the  planets  burn,  December  feigns 

June's  mellow  ray. 

Unchanged  the  spires  of  cypress,  and  the  sweep 
Of  crowding  hosts  of  gum  trees  up  the  hill 

Where  summer  still 

With  gold  of  vagrant  poppies  flecks  the  steep ; 
Yet  winter  violets  bloom  with  fragrance  deep. 
Perplexed,  entranced,  we  are  but  sure  this  seems 
The  '*  land  of  afternoon,"  and  lotus-dreams 

Our  senses  thrill. 


A    CHRISTMAS     ROSE: 


rSE,  at  the  Monterey  Mission  unfolding, 
Rose  the  good  Padres  once  cherishing  trained 
On  these  adobe  walls  gnarled  stems  upholding 
Chalices  perfumed  and  sunset-pink  stained, 

Rosa  Castilian,  sweet  rose  of  the  Mission, 
Secrets,  ah,  surely,  your  gold  hearts  retained 
As  the  long  century  drowsily  waned  ! 

Rose,  did  they  whisper,  those  Padres,  but  aves 
While  gay  boleros  soft  tinkled  without 

Corridors  white  in  the  moonlight,  and  pathways 
Darkened  where  twin  shadows  flitted  about  ? 

Rosa  Castilian,  fair  rose  of  the  Mission, 

Never  a  kiss  set  your  pink  lips  to  pout, 

Never  a  languorous  lover  to  flout  ? 

Rose,  in  some  odorous  twilight  fast-flying 

(Waiting  the  Angelus  prayers  to  repeat) 

Stooped  not  a  friar,  gray-robed,  softly  sighing 
Into  your  warm  ear  a  confidence  sweet  ? 

Rosa  Castilian,  dear  rose  of  the  Mission, 

Once  you  leaned,  surely,  some  ardent  heart's  beat, 

Quickened  by  ancient  romances,  to  greet  ? 

Rose  on  these  crumbling  walls  tenderly  cherished 

Years  to  you  naught  but  the  sunshine  and  rain, 

Dust  are  the  Padres,  their  sepulchres  perished  ; 
Mouldering  missal  and  vestments  remain, 

Rosa  Castilian,  old  rose  of  the  Mission, 

Long-vanished  glories  their  voiceless  refrain, 

Passing  of  power  Franciscan,  of  Spain. 


Rose  with  this  austral  sun's  golden  wine  filling 

Lavish  cups,  brimming  and  perfumed  to-day, 

No  breath  of  winter,  nor  icy  blast  chilling 
Bloom  of  December  as  constant  as  May, 

Rosa  Castilian,  first  rose  of  the  Mission- 

Ah,  but  the  magical  tales  you  might  say, 

Pink  lips  from  golden  hearts  curving  away  ! 


CHRISTMAS    *    ^    * 
HERE    AND    THERE 


BELLS  of  Christmas,  a  carillon  sending: 
Of  silver  chimes  through  the  sunny  day, 
Cloudless  azure  of  June  sky  bending 

Over  the  sapphire  bay  — 
Bitter  the  Christmas  there,  and  snoring, 
Keen  the  rough  winds  blowing! 

Sunshine  flooding  the  purple  distance 

Of  farther  mountain,  and  hillsides  near; 
Violets  breathing  with  sweet  insistence, 

44  Winter  is  banished  here." 
Frozen  and  bleak  the  garden  spaces 

Lift  their  desolate  faces  ! 

Larks  in  our  grassy  meadows  trilling, 

Love  and  hope  in  their  raptures  told  ; 

Clusters  of  lavish  poppies  spilling 

Bright,  brimming  cups  of  gold  — 

Silent  the  woodlands  gray,  where  only 
Bare  fields  shiver,  lonely  / 

Lightly  fall  in  our  golden  weather 

Strokes  of  Time  for  the  flying  hours; 

Fair  Earth  smiles  with  the  Year,  together 
Marking  our  paths  with  flowers  — 

Long  the  winter's  reign,  and  weary, 
Cold  December  dreary  / 


TWO  PICTURES 


THERE:-. 

BITTER  the  keen  winds  blowing  under  sullen  skies  and 
low, 
Where  the  dying  sun,  his  brief  task  done,  sinks  blood-red 

over  the  snow ; 

Snow  with  its  merciless  beauty,  snow  with  its  deadly  hold 
On  the  pulses  warm  of  each  shuddering  form  that  dares 

the  cruel  cold. 
God  pity  the  shelterless  vagrant  whose  wandering  steps 

and  slow 
Falter  and  fail  in  the  icy  gale  while  darkens  the  waste 

below — 
O,  the  scourging  lash  of  the  blizzard,  the  blinding,  stinging 

sleet, 
The  gaunt  white  wolves  of  Hunger  and  Cold  that  follow, 

grim  and  fleet! 


HERE: 

nEW  grass  in  all  the  sunny  spaces ; 
New  robes  for  earth's  brown  breast 
The  rains  weave  fast,  in  vacant  places 
By  southern  sun  caressed. 

New  hopes  through  hearts  despairing  thrilling, 

New  life  a  glad  world  knows 
With  larks  in  greenest  meadows  trilling 

Where  gold  of  poppies  glows. 

Red  are  the  garden  roses  budding ; 

Through  casements  wide,  the  room 
Warm  winds  with  violet  odors  flooding, 

Knows  Spring's  dear,  faint  perfume. 


TO  A  DECEMBER  VIOLET 


DEAR  violet,  a  passing:  guest 
With  Lenten  gown  of  purple  dressed 

In  colder  clime. 

Sweet  saint,  uplifting  tender  eyes 
To  April's  pale  and  changing  skies — 
As  brief  your  prime. 

But  constant  to  our  sunshine,  here 

We  find  you,  love  you  through  the  year, 

As  friend,  nay,  more : 
Fast  drive  the  wind-swept  rains,  and,  too, 
The  frost  smites  frailer  bloom,  while  you 

Smile  as  before* 

No  passionate  rose  are  you,  sweetheart, 
With  red  lips  curved  to  all,  apart 

In  shyest  grace 

You  nestle — yet  the  garden's  pride 
Of  bloom  and  beauty  wanes  beside 

Your  dainty  face. 

In  sheltering  leaves  you  hide,  demure, 
From  careless  glance  or  touch  secure, 

But  lovers  true 

Led  by  your  perfume  faintly  sweet — 
A  breath  of  heaven,  perchance — we  greet 

Your  heavenly  blue. 

Ah,  little  love,  your  calm  content 
Shames  restless  souls  with  striving  spent. 

Would  we  might  find 
Nepenthe  in  the  sunshine :  cease 
To  war  with  Fate  and  smile  in  peace, 

To  life  resigned ! 


i\ 


WITH    CHRISTMAS 
VIOLETS    TO     HER 


sunny  gardens  where  no  blight 
Of  winter  mars  their  perfect  bloom, 
These  purple  violets  waft  delight 
Of  sweet  perfume. 

Across  wide,  desolate  wastes  of  snow, 

With  breath  of  summer  swiftly  fare, 
Where  stern  December  skies  brood  low 
O'er  gardens  bare. 

Tell  her  of  sapphire  sky  and  sea, 

Of   warm,  caressing  sunshine  here, 
And  green  fields  fair  as  Arcady 
Where  larks  sing  clear. 

Yet,  Sweet,  'twere  Arcady  though  snows 

Lay  deep  along  each  frosty  way, 
If,  but  your  cheek  could  lean,  a  rose, 
To  mine  to-day ! 


n 


CHRISTMAS  SONG 
TOR  CALIFORNIA 


nO  winter's  blight  our  Christmas  knows, 
No  bitter  blasts,  nor  sparkling  snows: 
The  old  year  wanes,  the  old  year  goes 

"While  halcyon  hours 
Drift  on  enchanted  pinions  fleet 
In  sunny  gardens,  where  with  sweet 
And  haunting  perfume  violets  greet 
Late  summer's  flowers* 

Scarce  dream  we  Christmas  almost  near 

So  blue  December  skies  appear, 

So  green  the  beckoning  fields,  so  clear 

Rise  hills  remote. 

The  golden  present  thralls:  no  past 
Nor  morrow's  cares  dark  shadows  cast, 
But  on  Time's  dial,  flying  fast 

Bright  hours  we  note* 

Ring  out,  glad  Christmas  bells,  nor  cease 
From  snows  to  palms  by  tropic  seas, 
Your  tidings  of  good-will  and  peace 

Exultant  sound. 

Ring  out,  blest  tale  of  love  Divine 
Where'er  the  Christmas  wreaths  of  pine, 
Our  violets  blue,  or  holly  twine 

The  world  around. 


OUR  CHRISTMAS   BERRIES 


EJIGH  on  the  leaning  hillsides  climbing 
fj    Yon  purple  wall  of  the  mountain  flanks 
Out  of  the  chaparral's  thickest  tangle 

That  rims  the  rushing  torrent's  banks, 
With  a  brilliant  glimmer  of  vivid  scarlet 

Our  Christmas  berries  smile,  and  shine 
From  a  maze  of  oak  and  glossy  laurel, 

Manzanita  and  wind-swept  pine* 

Up  the  wild,  rough  trails  in  the  canyons, 

Crushing  the  ferns  and  wet,  sweet  bay, 
While  the  pungent  odor  of  yerba-buena 

Follows  our  breathless,  headlong  way : 
Clambering  high  for  more  perfect  clusters 

Set  red-ripe  in  the  tenderest  green — 
O,  the  joy  of  it,  and  far  gazing 

From  heights  won  bravely  the  seaward  scene ! 

Perchance  for  robin  as  red,  and  blue-jay 

This  feast  of  Nature's  is  spread  alone, 
But  lavish  as  all  this  fair  land's  treasures, 

Free  as  the  sunshine  the  poorest  own* 
So  to  the  dwellers  where,  thronging  closely, 

Glimpses  of  woodland  beauty  are  rare, 
Joy  and  color  these  Christmas  berries 

Bring  to  the  dullness  of  ceaseless  care* 

What  care  we  for  the  alien  holly 

Stiff  and  stately  with  ancient  pride 
Of  Merrie  England  ?    We  crown  our  revels 

With  sun-kissed  garlands,  and  wreath  beside 
Branches  of  redwood  with  fragrance  sylvan 

Grandest  of  mansions,  or  cot  within : 
Lending  the  smile  of  Mother  Nature 

To  make  us  comrades,  and  Christmas  kin. 


NEAR  AND  FAR  AT 
CHRISTMAS  TIME: 


CHE  Christmas  bells  ring  out— though  bleak  December 
Far,  far  remote  appears 
To  hearts  that  in  this  summer  land,  remember 

Gay  feasts  of  other  years 
In  colder  climes,  beyond  these  palms,  and  breathing 

Wild  fragrance  of  the  pine 

From  trackless  woodlands,  where  deep  snows  were  wreath 
ing 
Their  glittering  garlands  fine* 

Then  rang  the  bells  in  mellow  cadence,  chiming 

Through  keen  and  frosty  air: 
Rang  happiness,  our  answering  heart-beats  timing 

The  Christmas  chorus  there. 
But  on  this  western  shore  (an  alien  seeming 

To  winter's  rigorous  hold) 
Perplexed  we  pause,  to  deem  December  dreaming 

As  flowers  of  June  unfold* 

Or  from  the  high  cloud-spaces  swift  descending 

The  spirit  of  the  rain 
Hovers  above  the  waiting  hillsides,  bending 

Low  to  the  thirsty  plain : 
Her  vapory  mantle  on  the  south  wind  flowing 

Athwart  the  mountain's  crest, 
Her  hands  outstretched  with  gracious  benison,  sowing 

Promise  of  harvest  blest* 


Soon  follow  emerald  leagues  of  young  grain  springing : 

Bright  gold  on  sunny  slopes 
Our  poppies  scatter,  while  the  larks  dream,  singing, 

Of  love  and  wakened  hopes. 
Stirs  the  warm  earth  with  quickening  growth  and  tender 

The  blue  of  Christmas  skies : 
Radiant  with  floods  of  soft  yet  brilliant  splendor 

The  low  sun  mounts,  and  dies. 


18 


BEFORE:  CHRISTMAS 


/COUNTING  the  days  till  Christmas! 

%J  A  mighty  army  tells 

These  rosary-beads  of  old  Time's  chain 

Ere  ring  the  Christmas  bells : 
And  our  round  world  far  and  nearer 

From  palm  to  Arctic  pine, 
There's  a  myriad  eager  hands  that  wait 

The  Christmas  wreaths  to  twine. 

Counting  the  days  till  Christmas ! 

Slow  wanes  the  score,  till  all 
Are  told,  with  constant,  anxious  glance 

Each  calendar  must  recall* 
Days  by  the  low  sun  smiling 

So  brief,  yet  each  we  greet 
With  longing  sighs  for  the  laggard  march 

Of  Time's  unhurried  feet. 

Counting  the  days  till  Christmas ! 

God's  gifts,  our  children,  dwell 
In  a  maze  of  happy  dreams  these  nights; 

And  daylight  stories  tell 
Of  marvelous  gifts  the  Christ-child 

To  a  fairy-tree  will  bear 
That  grows,  on  Christmas  Eve,  to  hold 

The  wondrous  gifts  they  share. 

Counting  the  days  till  Christmas! 

Sweet  days  of  tender  care 
That  loved  ones  may  on  the  blessed  morn 

Find  longed-for  treasures  fair. 
Thus  dreaming,  hoping  and  waiting, 

That  holiest  day  draws  near 
When  "  Peace  on  earth,  good-will  to  men  " 

Ring  out  the  joy-bells  clear. 


